The Phantom Pain
by Lord Malachite
Summary: It was a warm summer night when the tortured ballerina met with a struggling writer to number her sins. And those sins of her past could be the story of his future.
_The Phantom Pain_

A _Steven Universe_ fanfiction written by Lord Malachite

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"I'm recording now, Mrs. Dalloway."

"This device seems primitive even by human standards."

"An heirloom of my grandfather's. Reel-to-reel tap was the first real method of audio recording available to the average person. You're quite right to say it's primitive, it's been obsolete for decades. But my grandfather was a writer, and this was the tool he used for his research and testimonials. Perhaps it's a bit sentimental, but I like to believe that I can tap into some of his skill and spirit this way. Plus the natural distortion and noise in a low quality, analog recording like this adds a certain degree of realism."

"If you say so, Mr. Thomas."

"You had things that you wanted to say. Take your time, I'm certainly not here to judge or analyze."

"It's not that. It's that…I don't even know where to begin. Humans tend to confess their sins and inadequacies to religious leaders, or psychologists, or those who dispense alcohol, as I understand it anyway."

"All accurate observations, I assure you. But you said this was not for yourself. That you wanted the world to know."

"I want him to know."

"And yet, by your own admission, you said you cannot tell him."

"Correct. It's…it is complicated. This is the best I can do."

"Then perhaps you should start with what you feel is the best place to start. What comes naturally to you."

"I can only begin with my own sin, I suppose. I will try. You see, there are times. There are times when you don't belong. You don't belong and you can't find a reason to go on. One day, I remember just staying within my private sanctum for all hours. Later that night I made a plan. The plan was I would leave my...family? Friends? Enclave? To this day I'm still not sure what to think of what we were. But I knew then that I was going to leave. Not right away, mind you. But when Steven was old enough. And that's what I did. I emerged from my room one morning. It was a sunny day in July, humid, the ocean spray on the breeze. I made breakfast. Not for myself, of course. I have no need to eat. For Steven's sake. Always the domestic mother. Steven ate it as though it would disappear, and tore off through the door with a platitude of thanks, off to meet his friends, to see his girlfriend. I hear he married her eventually. Connie was her name. She would take care of Steven where I failed.

And that, I knew, was the day. I went to the bus station, purchased a ticked, boarded a bus. I'd left a note, 'To Better Days.' When I arrived in Canada, I changed my appearance, made myself look older. I decided to take work at a library. I wish I could say that these decisions filled me with remorse. I wish I could find the regret. Though what do such platitudes even amount to? It's funny. Thousands of years I've spent on this rock with Rose. And yet I couldn't bear a simple human lifetime without her. Seventy, eighty years. You must try to understand. For me, that should have been nothing. Like a two week vacation is to humans. They searched for me, I know, but I left no means by which to be tracked. I gave up my heritage and assimilated into a very quiet, human existence. Somehow, that was easier. Easier than seeing him. The poor boy. None of it was his fault. If there was just one thing I would like to tell him, it's that. It wasn't his fault. But the pain of having Rose so close and so far...No one is going to forgive me. That's fine. I'm not looking for forgiveness. I'm not even looking for understanding. I only speak these things to you because...because there deserves to be some kind of record. Some kind of explanation. Even if it isn't understood, even if my sins can't be forgiven. I don't want forgiveness. Because how can I regret a choice I did not truly have. It was more than I could bear. It was death. My last lesson from Rose, perhaps. The freedom to choose for myself. There is a monster in me. A servile creature I can never truly be free of. Perhaps 'monster' is too strong a word. She is the thorn in my side. The cross I must bear. Human religious axioms, but they seem fitting. No one can really fight what they are. We must all master ourselves, humans and gems alike. This is a task I have yet to complete."

"Some kind of record? So you won't object to this being published?"

"For humans, life is full of regrets. Regrets are fewer and farther between for my kind-we simply...have the time to see to our mistakes. You must understand why I am telling you all these things. Because I don't have the strength to face that boy...that man, on my own. I won't even have the strength to face Rose. To tell her that I failed. I always knew that I would, but that...that is a story for another time. You see, I've mastered the artifice of living as a human. I purchase groceries that I neither want nor need. I attend movies, I go to work, I visit museums. But I am not very good at...living, I suppose. Ordinary happiness was something that Garnet worked out for herself. That came to Amethyst naturally. That Rose discovered with Greg. But I look back over the millennia and have so few remembrances of...of being happy. Freedom I felt once-on a foggy morning when a war that predates your species concluded. And again on that scandalous July morning when I shook the dust of Beach City from my feet. On both occasions, I wept. Because I did not know what to do with myself. This place, it never suited me. I should have gone to London. I wanted to, dearly. But I feared being so far away from him...that one day he would cry out to me that I was still needed. But I know that day will not come. I no longer want it to. Just like I no longer want forgiveness."

"Over the course of our interviews, you've mentioned that you don't want forgiveness or understanding. Why is that?"

"Because it would only make me feel smaller, to need such things. I made a promise long ago, not to need anything but her. It was a lie that I believed. I am like that human axiom, 'Man cannot live on bread alone.' The irony is not lost on me. I am becoming more human all the time. I once looked upon that realization with fear and disgust. Now it is just part of who I am. And yet, who might I have been, still be, were I to go to London?"

"I had a fantasy about you, once. I was twenty years younger, of course. But I saw you, sitting on a hillside late at night, curled up into a ball with your knees to your chest. You looked younger, prettier. Sadder, somehow, than this entire process has been. I remembered thinking how you looked as though you might roll from that hill in any direction a breeze pushed you. And I had this fantasy where I rescued you from an ocean of troubles. But it wasn't my reality. What could I possibly have saved you from, as a child of nineteen? I was but a child, admiring a beauty unlike I had seen before. It's rather...sobering to know the reality. That even now, as a grown man, there is nothing I can do for you beyond this. And yet you survived."

"Garnet was a model once, you know. More human lifetimes ago than I can remember, I'm afraid. I couldn't understand why she consented to have a man paint her on the beach. 'For the experience' she later said. And so somewhere buried in a dead artist's basement is this forgotten oil and canvas representation of Garnet standing on the shore, looking as stoic as ever. Then of course, Amethyst used to allow Vidalia to paint her religiously. It was some type of bond. But I have no such keepsakes. Just a single photo from about 170 years ago. You see, I try to remain invisible. Not only because I am an alien to this world, but because I've yet to do something worthy of leaving my mark on the universe. Ever since I abandoned Steven, I've had much time to reflect. I used to think there was shame in my actions, of course. Now I have come to realize it is just who I am. Remember the monster I mentioned? Do not allow her to fool you. She feigns selflessness, obedience, servitude. But it is all in a greater service to herself. Functioning within a group takes so much effort. One on one interactions are best-I never have to worry about the perceptions of more than one person. It is much easier to keep one's lies consistent to one person than many. No. It's more duplicitous than that. It makes it easier to deceive myself. And once you have accomplished that? The sky is the limit. Not to mention that having more exclusive company drowns out the nattering voices in my mind."

"The flowers. Is there a significance to them? Every Sunday morning you carry a fresh bundle of bouquets."

"Rose loved all living things. It's my way of honoring her. The Earth is a beautiful place, I never want to be so familiar with it that I lose sight of such things. Of how insignificant we all are. You must forgive my dispassion. I have spent five thousand years not knowing what I am doing, focusing on menial things to give myself purpose, being ever battle ready to protect this planet. When I stopped all of that, I ...retreated. My first year in Canada? It was merely...survival. Trying to find a way to live with myself. I said earlier that I chose life. Because I was suffocating. But four decades have forced me to reconcile the truth. What I couldn't stand was not being the most important woman in his life. I didn't mind sharing with Garnet and Amethyst-Steven needed more than one mother, not a single one of us had all the answers. But I lost Rose because of him. And I don't believe I've ever overcome that. But I endured. I did the best I could, for thirteen years that felt like centuries, millennia. I lost Rose because of him. And then I lost him, and...well that is why I am here. Telling all of this to you. Because I can't do it alone. Forgive me for my rudeness. I don't do well with needing others. Even for little things. Which is why I am still alive, I suppose. I've never had enough courage for suicide. Plenty of cowardice to run away, or to stand on the front line of a battle unnecessarily. But courage? That came from Rose. And him. I cut them both out of my life. Now I am just the sum of my faults. I live alone with my mistakes and my demons. I am one with my pain. I need my pain. Because if I were to let go of it, I'd be letting go of Rose. My pain is my roadmap back to her."

"And my turning your life story into a novel...this won't be one of those things you regret?"

"Hardly. So few would believe you. It's all the truth, but for your sake, I hope you'll publish it as fiction."

"I'm working a kind of sci-fi drama angle."

"And the title?"

"Right now, I keep coming back to 'The Visitor.' I want it to be...alluring. Mysterious."

"I am neither, Mr. Thomas."

"Perhaps. But this story will sell, Mrs. Dalloway I'm certain. If I may ask, why 'Mrs. Dalloway'? Implies that there's a Mister out there somewhere."

"If there is one thing I would think you of all people would understand, it's that I'm very, very poor with relationships. There was only one woman who was able to overlook my faults. For a time. And there has not once been a single man I have disliked enough to inflict with myself. You have seen only a presentable version of me. You've no idea what the hours can do. You've never seen me muttering to figments of my imagination. You haven't watched me prepare breakfast every morning for no one. You haven't seen me rearrange furniture I seldom use, or wash clothes I have never worn, or flush rolls of toilet paper away that I buy as a camouflage. All as an advertisement for how normal I am. These are rituals that must be carried out daily. They make me...less livable. They say that the worst thing a mother can ever do is to abandon her child. They are wrong. Sometimes...a mother has to protect her child from herself. If there is a bad influence in your child's life...you have a responsibility to remove it. I was such an influence. It simply took me time to realize how my mistakes, my sins...well, I could no longer just stand back and watch and wait for him to be ruined because I had been too reckless. Because I had needs he couldn't possibly understand. To risk myself constantly. To be overbearing. To worry endlessly. To obsess. To...to be needed. I needed to be needed. By him. By others. By her. It's all I know how to do. There are times I question if I have lived too long. Imagine such a thing. How do humans do it? Such a short existence and so much of it spent tending to your physical limitations. Sleeping. Eating. Bathing. Waste evacuation. Disease. Dental visits. It all seems so tedious. Yet I suppose the one great benefit of it all is that it provides perspective. Life is too brief a treat. But not for me. For me, it stretches on like a desert of hours. There is always another one coming, looking to be filled. And there are so few oases at which I can find comfort and rest."

"And you fill them? The hours?"

When I don't, that's when the voices creep in. The ghosts of the past I can't escape. So I fill them. Nothing special. Puzzles are intriguing. Not in the traditional sense. I do them upside down, looking for the patterns. The image they create when put together somehow means less than the pattern itself," learning how each piece plays its part. Sometimes I feel like a puzzle that is missing pieces. Little parts of myself that have been given to others, or left behind in battles, or forfeit in choices and gambles. Humans are not so different in this. Further proof of how much like them I have become."

"Of course, I spend my time doing much more than mere 'jigsaws.' I have never had much use for television, until I discovered PBS. Finally! Something coming out of that foolish box that was worthwhile! Why hadn't Amethyst or Steven ever told me about this before?! 'Giselle,' it was called, and the movements were as old to me as time itself. I remember pushing all the furniture out of the room, moving in tandem with the dancers on the screen, as though it were a private piece I had choreographed all my own. This I could understand! This I could appreciate! I knew that with only modest effort, I could be like the best of them. The fantasy played out in my mind many times. I may very well have tried for it...but once again, it was my past that kept me anchored here. I couldn't very well become a primadona. Let the others know that I still existed. I had severed every connection I could-not just with the Crystal Gems, but with that life. I did not wish to be found, and I disposed of anything that might have allowed Garnet to trace my location. Inserting myself so blatantly into the spotlight was simply something I could not risk."

"But regardless, it did me much good to stretch my legs, to dance unfettered, no partner to sync with, no style to try and adapt to. This was all for myself. How many things have I ever been able to call my own? I have spent countless lifetimes in service to others. Including those I loved. And I never had cause to call anything my own. No, that's not entirely true. There was one thing. The love I had, still have, for Rose Quartz. I was foolish to ever think that I could be enough for her. And she did love me, in her own way. But everything I've felt for her-the love, the jealousy, the joy, the anger, the dedication, the heartbreak. All of those things were mine. It's the hardest lesson in life I've learned far, far too late. But I hope to pass it on to someone, one day. And it's this. You are what you love-not what loves you. For reasons you could never understand, I place so much innate value on others needing me. But what truly matters is what you give, not what is given to you. What we leave behind amounts to nothing. But how we've lived...that's what makes life, no matter how short or long, worth living. It's what Rose understood and I never did. I wish I could say there was something I believed in, that I was willing to give my all for. But really, it was just...someone. That's the trouble, when you believe in someone else. Your family, your friend, your lover, your god-it doesn't matter. Because they will fail you. Or you will fail them."

"Your fantasies are very vivid, Mrs. Dalloway. They will make for an exceptional book."

"They are not fantasies. Every word I've told you is true."

"Oh come now, there's no reason to be so coy. Everyone wants to be stronger and more resilient than they really are."

In our fifteen months of these meetings, have you ever once seen me take a drink? Touch any of the snacks? Excuse myself to the restroom?"

"Well, no, I suppose not, but there's no harm in being polite, is there?"

"It is not politeness. It is as I have said. I have no need for those things. Do not take me as a child you can pat on the head and indulge. Or I will call an end to these meetings."

"Why haven't you? Called an end to them, I mean. Every month, before I turn the recorder on, you always carry on for five minutes about how we shouldn't be doing this-like we're having some kind of affair rather than talking at length about your fanta...fantastic life story."

"Because I shouldn't be telling you. Or anyone else. I risk exposing myself. And I endanger you with every one of these meetings. I'm certain that Peridot would love the opportunity to calculate the odds of risk you run each time we associate."

"And yet, Mrs. Dalloway, you come each month."

"As I've said, I want...I need there to be...some kind of record. To satisfy myself, I suppose. Because I want him to know that I don't hate him. Though I suppose it's far too late for the inverse. I don't want to be hated. But I don't know how to be what is expected of me. I play it back for myself. Over and over again. It's etched into every part of me. I left without saying anything. He was still just a boy. He deserved better than that. Greg deserved better. Steven's father. For obvious reasons, we were never close. But I made a promise to him, the same one I made to Rose. That I would watch over Steven. He at least deserved to know why I was letting him and his little boy down."

"Because you were a bad influence?"

"Because I was not worthy of the task. No. No, that isn't true. It's because I hated Steven. Not because Rose gave up her physical form for him. Not because he was Greg's child. Not because of anything he ever said or did. It wasn't that kind of hate. It is because he is something I can never truly understand, neither gem nor human. I loved him as well. You understand me. I love that boy. And I also fear him. What Rose Quartz unleashed on the universe, I am uncertain. And I hate myself for being so wary. So jealous. I have no right. But there it is.

"Perhaps you'd rather discuss this at another time."

"Perhaps. There's never going to be a good time. I deserve his hatred. But if I were to knock on his door, I know he would embrace me as though I never left. It's just who Steven is. He doesn't hold onto feelings like that. He always sees the best in people. Lapis Lazuli. Peridot. He wouldn't give up on them. Not the way I gave up on them. On myself. On him."

"If everything you say is true...then I would like to see a demonstration of some of these...abilities that gems have. I would like you to show me your power, Mrs. Dalloway."

"Sorry, I don't do performances."

"A small gesture, it needn't be something grandiose and attention-getting."

"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Thomas. Your world is more manageable as it is now. It is better to be unaware of the truth. I know of what I speak. My eyes were opened, so very many years ago. It's been hell ever since. There are good days, mind you. Scandalous days when I don't feel so...stifled. Days where it seems anything can happen. Going out to the beach before dawn, practicing a blend of ballet and martial arts. A warrior must always keep some measure of her skill sharp."

"A warrior? So you've been in battle?"

"Battle implies a measure of order, something I am quite familiar with. These were...far less so. Things weren't always that way. They were more civil at first. Ideological differences. It didn't take long for the worst in us to come out. I have killed more of my kind than I can even count. In a fight that intense, you just...lose yourself. It becomes like a dance. I had one job. To protect Rose Quartz with my life. All other concerns...ALL...were secondary. You understand me. I shattered any threat to Rose. Time and again. I ran to the front line of every battle. I took on any mission-even ones not intended for me. I put my life at risk like it was nothing at all. Like I didn't care about my own survival. I didn't care. I would have been happier dying for her. Because then I would have been useful to her. In those days I wanted to be the only one she could depend on. I couldn't be satisfied with just playing my part. I took up any cause that was important to Rose. Her thoughts were my actions. Her beliefs were my scriptures. So many feelings I had for her. I didn't know where to put them. After all these years I still don't. She was a saint to put up with me as she did. I was always so...I'm not even sure what the word is for it. You never know what you have until it slips from your fingers. I still worship the ground she walks on. That's why it was always so difficult with Steven. How do you raise someone who makes you cry so often? Whom you struggle to keep your composure in front of?

Who is...your world, that's all there is. It's not like you think. I had resolved not to like him. Just like Greg. I would keep my promise in the most literal terms. I would look after him. But I would not like him. What a foolish, vindictive thought. I had already lost that battle the first time Steven looked up at me and smiled. There's so much of Rose in him. Sometimes, when he looked at something with childlike wonder, I would see her looking right at me through his eyes. Different. Wider. Remember how I said that Rose cherished all the beauty of Earth-finding it in things humans and gems alike would pass over. But he could take it all in for the first time. He didn't see the scars we carved into this world with our war. Or the countless other scratches inflicted by human progress and conflict. And it's for his sake that I came here. He wouldn't understand, of course. I'd never expect him to. This, all of this, is my way of protecting him. I'm...not good for him. I feel things. I want to interfere in his life all the time, make decisions for him that I think are best...I don't know how to do anything else. Just like with Rose. I don't...I don't know where to put my love, my feelings, my hopes and dreams. I've always been so selfish, veiling it all as selflessness. My faults are like the grains of sand on the beach, but I would spend so much time focusing on mistakes others would make...sometimes you just have to...to stay out of history's way. And he will be history. For all of us. There's a storm around him, and so many are caught up in the gale, friend and foe alike. And yet, he is always truly and utterly...Steven. It's like he can will changes to the odds, turn certain defeat into a fighting chance for victory."

"And you left him, Mrs. Dalloway? Well, of course you left, but was it your only choice, as you say?"

"There are always choices. I just...I wanted him to be more. More than I could offer. Isn't that what every parent should want? For their child to be more than they are? For the world to tilt on its axis for them? But I believe our time is up, tonight."

"I can stay a bit longer. This is all excellent material."

"Then you have more than enough to begin writing. Use your primitive recording device to extract what you need, Mr. Thomas."

"Will you meet with me again, then? Next month?"

"My conscience will hardly be made clear in so short a time. I'll appear one evening that seems appropriate. As usual. No sermons. Good night, Mr. Thomas."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Dalloway."

 _-Session 001_

 _Author's Notes_

Yup, I've posted something new, as I'm wont to do. Techne, my muse, tends to just sway me as she will. I've given up trying to control what I'm working on because stuff just tends to bleed out of me whether I want it to or not. This piece has been in development since last August. I rather like how it just exists on its own, with no context. It's confusing and jarring and has no real context, but then, that's the point. As the reader, you've basically unearthed a box of these recordings and a the device used to make them. All you can do is enjoy the ride these interviews provide, looking at the story from the outside in. As such, it doesn't really have a clear beginning, middle, or end. I likely will add tapes to the collection as I get inspired to do so, but it's probably best to approach these like my series of columns by Ginger Foutley. Expect less of a linear story and more of a look into Pearl's psyche. This of course is Pearl as I see her, based on my own "discussions" with the Pearl inside of my head. This is definitely experimental fanfiction, and as such I feel that it's either destined to be a hit with the SU fandom, or to languish in utter obscurity. I'm fine either way. It was a story that needed to be told. In it, I can see my style evolving for the better, that my prose is finally beginning to "grow up," to mature into its potential. For years I've felt that I'm a pretty good fanfiction author, if you'll excuse my patting myself on the back. But at the same time, I've also felt that my writing was lacking somehow. That it just wasn't all that it could be. I feel like I've finally turned a corner on that front. This might mean that my modern stories are a little less accessible as I tend to write in a more formal style now. This may ultimately cost me some readers, but I don't feel that my style has grown too pretentious or that I am utilizing a vocabulary that is beyond the reach of the average reader. If this means that my stories take a little more effort to read, then I feel it's to the benefit of most.

With all of that said, by all means, tell me how I'm doing. I welcome feedback strongly on this, including constructive criticism. Accent on constructive. If you hate this, that's fine, but please tell me what it is that you disliked. Saying "it sucks" only reveals to me you weren't a fan of it, which is fine, but I can't do better if I don't know how I've failed. The same goes if you really enjoy the work. "This story rocks" is a comment that will make me smile, but it won't give me any idea what I actually did to earn you praise. Reviews offer you a lot more characters to express your opinion than a Tweet does, so I urge you to use them, whatever your opinion might be.

And that will be quite enough of my blathering on for now. Read it, review it, share it with those you love (or warn them away?). And, as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

5/16/16

3:51AM, EST

AIM: Asukaphile26

Twitter: LordMalachite


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